Dead Hands
by MonstrousMurders
Summary: The end of the world changed a lot for Bilbo Baggins. One being the company he kept- and the life that he lived. This is his tale.


**Dead Hands**

_Zombie AU_

Bilbo clutched his glock in his hand, back pressed to the door hard as he trembled, unsure of what he should do next, the door rattling on it's hinges. The _things_ outside his house were horrific and unstoppable as usual, and even more ravenous than usual in his opinion. Bilbo Baggins had been trying to get rid of them for weeks- shooting at them from his roof with his pistol, only succeeding in shooting off a couple rotting limbs.

'_I knew I should have never moved here!'_ He thought, shaking his head quickly. _'Mother was right about this neighbourhood!'_ To be honest, he doubted his mother had predicted the oncoming end of civilization with the rising of the dead, but she probably had something like that in mind. Slowly, the man stepped away from his front door, taking a breath. If they were going to get in, he was at least going to be in a safer place, not waiting for them in his front parlour like a meal-to-go.

Quickly, he turned, running up the steps quickly to the second story of his house. Since the fall, he'd been living primarily up there. Bilbo had decided that the dead probably weren't as good at climbing stairs as his- and even if they were, he'd be able to kick them back down easily. He hoped. It helped that there was a door at the very top of the staircase that had a couple locks on it, put there by Bilbo months before the outbreak. He'd been paranoid that if there was ever a break in, that his alarm system wouldn't be able to keep thieves out of his more important things, hence the extensive locks. Now, he stepped through it, shutting the door quickly, and putting each lock into place, rattling the door just to be sure that it was locked. Afterwards, he took his dresser, and pushed it in front of the door as a final precaution.

He passed by two doors- one being the bathroom, and the other being the spare bedroom. The bedroom held a good years worth of canned food and bottled water- all transferred from his pantry downstairs after the first news of the outbreak had come out. Bilbo had gathered all of his essentials and moved them upstairs, before hunkering down in his bedroom with his fathers old glock, refusing to leave his house until the tele said that everything was okay once more.

It had been a good decision too, because a day after that, all signs of human life were gone, and the entire small town seemed to be infected. The television went dead first- and then the radio. The last thing he'd ever heard from them was how people were infected- through a bite. If you were bit, you'd become one of them. If some of their blood got in your mouth, you were infected. If you were scratched too deeply, you were infected. No one had figured it out until it was too late, and the world seemed to have paid the price.

Bilbo set his pistol down on the dresser when he entered his bedroom, closing the door behind him. The window in this room was the only unboarded one on the upper floor, and he walked to it, peering through the curtains at the street below.

Stragglers only remained from the crowd that had followed him here. He'd gone out to get some more bullets from the shed at the back of the house next-door and accidently set of the alarm for intruders. It had called the monsters from miles away, and he ran as quickly as he could back into his home. He'd been barely able to lock the front door before they'd began pounding on it, roaring for his blood. He'd pressed all of his weight against the straining door, the lock creaking with every slam of their bodies.

They'd battered against it for what seemed like hours, and Bilbo had almost been about to give up, ready to accept death, when something had drawn the monsters away. Some high-pitched noise in the distance, like a whistle of some sorts. Bilbo had been relieved- not even caring that now someone else was in trouble with the beasts.

One of the stragglers just happened to be his neighbour, Lobelia Sackville. She was stumbling across his lawn aimlessly, before knocking into his mailbox, falling over. A snort escaped him, and he covered his mouth, shaking his head. God he was going insane. He needed someone that was human to show up soon or else he was going to lose his mind in this house. Someone that was willing to make conversation for a couple moments, at the least.

It wasn't going to happen though, Bilbo knew that. Everyone that passed by probably looked at this house and saw another failed attempt to protect themselves from the creatures that lurked outside. The only way he was ever going to get any conversation was if he left his house and this town, or the phone lines came on so he could call his mother and other members of his family to find out if they were all right. Bilbo had a feeling though, that if he did try their numbers, all he'd get was a voicemail. How could've they'd survived something like this? He'd barely hung on this long against the dead- the zombies.

He refused to call them zombies though. Calling them zombies just made everything seem a lot more… final. Bilbo had seen enough of those movies to know what happened at the end. Only one person survived, and the rest died horrible deaths at the teeth and hands of the undead. And if you were alone in the zombie apocalypse, you really weren't going to last at all. Especially if you were Bilbo, who had never fired a gun until this whole thing had started. He couldn't shoot, wasn't very strong… the only thing he had going for him was his small size and how fast he was.

"Maybe I should call them something else, besides monsters…" Bilbo murmured to himself, rubbing his chin slightly. "Like… Orcs." He paused, looking back outside at Lobelia, who'd picked herself back up once more. "Yes, Orcs will do quite nicely."

The invasion of the Orcs… it sounded like a line from some fantasy novel.

A horrifying fantasy novel.

Thorin Oakenshield held his pistol close, breathing slow and even as he waited for one of the beasts to pass by, stumbling along as it searched for the flesh it so desperately craved. This one looked to be a man in his late 40's, obese and rotting, pieces of flesh hanging off of it where it had been bitten. It seemed the man had been a buffet for the dead, with the amount of flesh that was missing from his stomach, and his nose wrinkled slightly. Disgusting, all of them. The man motioned back for his company to stay still, indicating with hand symbols that the dead were close.

They had just arrived in this town from the countryside, travelling in a large bus they had scavenged up from a school. Barbed wire covered the windows, and they'd welded a mettle cage over that, making that these things had a much harder time of getting into it at night. The door has the same outfit, though a bit different so it could still be opened. Thorin and Balin had done it in a metalworkers abandoned shop right when the plague had started, gathering all their extended friends and family from Blue Mountain, a largish town near the west coast. All together their numbers made 13, 12 of them being some sort of relative of each other, and the last being an old friend of Thorin's family, who they called Gandalf instead of his real name Gorgon. Being named after a Greek myth of a woman with snakes for hair and could turn others into stone wasn't quite in his taste it seemed.

"We need to find a place to rest for the night…" Balin murmured in Thorin's ear, moving closer to his leader, and he nodded in agreement, glancing around.

"A house will do." He whispered back, jerking his head in the direction of a two-story home with a crowd on the lawn. It looked good enough for tonight- the rest of the homes had broken windows and wrecked front doors- going for the most intact house was the best bet for surviving the night, at this point. The dead would be easy to get rid of- a sharp whistle from Dwalin back at the watchtower they'd set up would draw them away in a couple minutes at the most.

"Contact Dwalin through the radio." Balin nodded, and looked back at Bofur, who began fiddling with a headset, pressing one of them to his ear as he began sending Dwalin the message in morse, the faintest clicks travelling to Thorin's ears

Then they waited. After a long while they heard a high-pitched whistle, echoing through the town, and the crowd instantly turned around, shambling towards where it had came from. Thorin felt no worry for Dwalin or Nori, who was accompanying him. Once a sufficient amount of them had left, Thorin jerked his fingers forward, giving his nephew Kili a look. He moved forward, lifting the crossbow he had an aiming for one of the creatures left on the lawn.

A bolt was loosed, and hit it square on. He reloaded quickly, firing off the next on and killing the second. The third turned, and in barely a second it was down on the ground, dead for good. Thorin made another movement with his hands, and they went forward, heading towards the house as quickly as they could. He made sure that Bifur went first, supported by Dori, the sweet elderly man whispering comforts to the other. Bifur had been bitten about a week ago, and since his circulation was always bad, he had yet to transform. It would only be a matter of time however, before he did.

Bombur and Bofur were both breaking at the knowledge their cousin would turn into one of them soon. The man couldn't even speak now, only able to speak gibberish. His fever had struck up recently, the beginning of the final stage. They'd let him pass in a nice warm bed, not in that bus of theirs. That was no place to let family fade.

They got to the door, and Thorin moved forward to check the door. Locked. He glanced at Fili, who produced a lock pick, kneeling by the door and working it in. The rest of them kept watch, making sure that none of the undead got close. Eventually a click came from the door, and it swung open. They all filed in, and Ori, the youngest of their company, locked it once more.

The home was quite quaint, clean and neatly put together. Dori was in the living room already, setting Bifur down in a comfy looking armchair. Balin headed to the kitchen, checking the cupboards, with Thorin in tow.

"Bollocks, cleaned out of food…" He muttered, opening every single one, even looking under the sink. Thorin frowned, walking over to see. Sure enough, every single one was empty. And not in the sense that there were empty cans, everything was gone- even the eating utensils.

"The poor fellow that lived here must of packed it all up with him before he left…" Balin sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Shame really. We could've done with more supplies." Thorin nodded gravely, rubbing his eyes, releasing a breath. Moments later, and Fili and Kili walked into the room, looking vaguely frustrated.

"Uncle, come quick. We need help opening the door at the top of the stair case." Fili grabbed his shoulder, and he quickly followed him. Kili was at the top of the stairs, throwing his weight against the door, handle gripped tight as he turned it, trying to open it. Fili came up next to him, pressing against it too, and Thorin sighed, pulling his axe from his belt.

"Move aside." He ordered his nephews, and they quickly moved back down, giving their uncle space. The longhaired man lifted the axe, and chopped down on the hinges, splitting the door from them. The door creaked, and with one tug towards himself, it fell. He barely got out of the way as it plummeted down the stairs. Fili and Kili grabbed it, saying something about using it to board the front door and some windows.

Thorin examined the dresser that had been pressed to the door, his frown deepening. Someone had boarded himself or herself in this house, trapping themselves in the upper floors. Which meant that whoever it was, they were still here. He gripped his axe a bit tighter, brandishing it as he looked back down the staircase, giving the signal to be quiet. Instantly his nephews shushed themselves, passing the signal back to the rest of their company, the chatter disappearing in moments.

Slowly Thorin made his way down the hallway, towards the slightly ajar door at the very end of it. He tried to slow his breathing, but found it quickening in his chest. He pushed the door open, only to find a gun shoved in his face, the barrel trembling slightly.

"M-Move any closer and I'll shoot your bloody face off!"

There was the barest of accent in his voice, sounding almost British in origin. His hair was wavy, looking as if it'd outgrown whatever neat haircut this man had before the fall of society. It was a strawberry blond kind of colour- and his eyes were a nice shade of blue, pupils blown with fear.

Well, they had just broken into his house. He probably thought it was the undead until he'd axed the door down, and then ducked into this room once he found out that it wasn't. Smart- not all humans were good.

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you!" Thorin snapped, lowering his axe, placing it on the ground slowly. "Just put down your gun." He locked eyes with the other, putting his hands up. The other gripped the gun a bit tighter, breathing heavily. Finally after a long moment, he slowly put the weapon down, shaking.

"Fucking hell, I didn't know anyone else was alive…" He whispered, shaking his head, as he pressed a palm to his forehead. "I've been in this house so long… and all the neighbours were dead… I just thought that no one else escaped the Orcs…"

Thorin frowned at him. "Orcs?"

"The undead out there. The monsters." The shorter male whispered, looking nervously back at the window, shaking. "I found it fitting since Orcs are creatures of darkness and rot."

"I'm Thorin Oakenshield." He offered the other a hand, and the shorter mans eyes darted down to the offered extremity, then back to Thorin's rugged face. Slowly, with his free hand, he took Thorin's, shaking it a bit awkwardly.

"Bilbo Baggins." His voice was almost a whisper, but he still heard the other.

"A pleasure to meet you." Thorin murmured. "I must insist you come downstairs, Mr. Baggins. The rest of my group needs to know of your presence." Bilbo blinked, opening and closing his mouth, more surprise crossing his face.

"There's… there's more of you?" He whispered. A tone of amazement was in his voice, and Thorin felt a pang of pity for the other, and nodded, moving to the side so he could go first. Bilbo stepped back into the hallway, still clutching at the pistol in his hands. His eyes darted back and forth; frame slightly hunkered down, as if he still expected to be attacked by someone. A fight or flight response. Even if he had been in this house for the last month, he must have gone outside recently for this sort of caution.

He had gone outside while those things were out there, crowding around his house. He hadn't been bitten, scratched… yet he'd avoided all of those things. That mulled on his mind, as he followed Bilbo back to the end of the hall, moving him aside once more so he could be the first person downstairs. He wasn't sure how the rest of the company would react to the sight of Mr. Baggins.

"So, any of those beasts up there?" Kili asked, and Thorin shook his head.

"No. No one dead." He moved a bit, revealing Bilbo to the people assembled, and there was a small collective gasp. Gandalf came out of the living room, and blinked at the sight before him, pushing his glasses up slightly.

"If I have never seen a sight for sore eyes… Bilbo Baggins!" He laughed, and then everyone turned to stare at him, open mouthed. Even Bilbo looked slightly shocked, staring at Gandalf like he was some crazy old man.

"You don't remember me?" The old man's face fell slightly, and he frowned at Bilbo. "It's me! Gandalf! I sold your grandfather, Old Took, fireworks! I knew you as a small child!" Bilbo's vision cleared, and he gasped, a sudden smile taking over his face. Thorin watched with a bit of joy in his chest, sparking there a bit. Even though he had just met the other, it was good to see that solemn expression wiped from his face. He must be relieved to see anyone he knew at all, even if it was someone he hadn't seen since he was a small child. Gandalf certainly seemed to be happy, and he walked forward quickly, enveloping Bilbo in a hug, laughing.

Awkwardly, Bilbo hugged back, face buried in the others chest. He looked like a midget compared to the elderly giant, who had a rare genetic disorder that made his limbs much longer. It hurt him a lot, giving Gandalf aching limbs, a sore back, and a constant pain in his feet. He never let any of them do any of his work however, insisting that he could do it, and that he was not a child to be coddled.

After a long while, Gandalf stepped back, nearly hitting his head on the hanging light as he rested a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "It's a pleasure to know Belladonna's child survived, even though she didn't." He told the smaller, and the expression that had finally lit up Bilbo's face fell down into a deep pit, eyes growing wide as his gun clattered to the floor. Gandalf instantly saw his mistake, and covered his mouth with a wrinkled hand, looking truly sorry.

"Oh no… You didn't know, did you? We went through her town a couple weeks ago… I insisted we see if she was alive but… she had been bit, and locked herself in her room. I took care of quieting her myself." Bilbo slowly slumped to the floor, looking like everything had been ripped from him. All of the people assembled had come to terms with the loss of loved ones, but it was obvious that Bilbo had yet to get word of any relatives. Phone lines had been down since the first week, the Internet down even earlier. The Orcs had a taste for wires, of all things, though once they'd bitten through them, they would move on to living prey, such as animals. The radio and the televisions had stayed on a bit longer, the satellites still out of the dead's reach, but eventually the television stations and radio stations were overrun.

"Give Mr. Bilbo some space." Thorin ordered the others, shooing them away. "Start barricading the windows and doors again." They all jumped to his command, quickly rushing out of the room, whispering things to each other. Bilbo, Gandalf, and Thorin were all that remained in the front hall, and Thorin knelt by Bilbo, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Her passing was swift, Bilbo. She didn't suffer. Come on; let's get you to a chair. I would make you some coffee, but I'm afraid your kitchen is empty."

"Upstairs. Guest bedroom." Bilbo mumbled, as Thorin led him to an empty chair in the kitchen, seating him down at the table. "I moved all the food up there as soon as I could." He glanced up at Thorin. "There should be some coffee mix somewhere. The cheap stuff you mix with water."

Thorin headed back up the stairs with that, fetching it along with a kettle he found on the same shelf. It had been divested of its books to make way for all of the food Bilbo had, which was a considerable amount. Once he got back to the kitchen, he filled the kettle, surprised to see that Bilbo still had running water.

"I have my own well." Bilbo saw the questioning look, answering his question. "I didn't like how they put stuff in our water, so I paid a good amount of money to get a well."

"What did you do for a living?" Thorin asked, taking a seat across from him, having put the kettle on the stove.

"I was a burglar." Bilbo said dryly, and Thorin stared at him for a moment. Bilbo snorted, and only then did the dark haired man realize he was joking, and his cheeks flushed slightly. "Just joking. I was a grocer. I sell food at markets and at my home. It's why I have so much of it."

"Ah. I was a mechanic. Though my family had a bit of a hold in politics for a long time. We go by the last name Durin though, since Oakenshield is a bit strange. And foreign. Everyone in our company is from a Nordic descent, so all of our parents named us very old names. Throws many people off really." Conversation was slightly easy with Bilbo, the words slipping out of his mouth easily.

"Where are you all headed?"

"East coast. I'm going to take back my hometown, Erebor, and then protect it from them. All of us were doing a family reunion in the west coast when this struck. I got news a couple days later while phones were still working that one of the undead; an old business partner of my family called Azog bit my grandfather. Then I heard that some bloody wanker named Smaug took up residence there. Killed tons of the family that hadn't come to the reunion so he could get his hands on something that's of an importance to my family. Didn't account for getting stuck there though." He rubbed at his face. "And this Orc, Azog, is a monster. He was horrible as a person, but as one of these monsters, he's unstoppable. An albino man who lifted weights, took steroids… he'd gained the strength of at least 10 men in death."

"Sounds horrible." Bilbo murmured, as the pot went off, ringing slightly. Thorin stood again, walking over and pulling it off, pouring the water into two cups, and then poured the coffee mix in. He brought it back over to Bilbo, who took it gratefully. It tasted like shit, but it was better than nothing, but it had caffeine.

"So you're going to kill him? As revenge?"

"Of course. He took my father too, you know. Trapped him somewhere in our home. I don't know if he was bitten or not, and I hope he wasn't. I don't think I could deal with it if he had."

"Well… I'll come with you then."

Thorin's head snapped up, and a laugh escaped his throat. "You're a grocer! What do you know about fighting?" His voice sounds incredulous, and Bilbo looked away, hiding the hurt on his face.

"I'm quick on my feet. I can help you get past them." He murmured, fingers gripping the cup tightly. He always hated being laughed at, and before Thorin had, he had begun to feel a sort of friendship with the man, no matter how brief their acquaintanceship had been. "I can get past Smaug I bet! I can… I can get whatever you're looking for back from him easily!"

He knows his voice is desperate, but he knows he can't let these people leave without him. He can't be alone anymore, and yeah, he's frightened about leaving his home, with his books and the fenced off garden, but he doesn't want to be surrounded by those Orcs anymore. Not one more second of having them roaming around his house, pounding at the doors and windows as they tried to eat him. He would be safe with Thorin; he and his company could protect him.

"Let Mr. Baggins come with." Gandalf's voice called their attention to the doorway, and he's leaning against it with his large frame, a cane clutched in his hand. "What he says is true. His family has always been quick on their feet. And Smaug knows what every single person in this company looks like, but he's never seen Bilbo before. It gives him an advantage." His gaze softened, but it seemed to still dig into the long haired man seated across from Bilbo, and he walked a bit closer.

"Would you really damn him to this house even longer?"

A look of guilt passed over Thorin's face, but he wiped it away as soon as he could, ripping his eyes away from Gandalf's, and looked back towards the boarded up window, before pushing back from the table.

"I'm going to help Bifur up stairs to the master bedroom." He muttered. "He's going to pass away soon, and I won't let him die where he's not comfortable. Tell the others that they can make themselves some food from the collection upstairs, if Mr. Baggins is alright with that." Bilbo nodded instantly, about to stand up and tell Thorin that he shouldn't pity him, until Gandalf gave him a look, and stayed still, looking back down at his lap.

The men indeed made themselves a feast that night, eating as much as they could, stuffing themselves full. Then songs were sung, and Bilbo kept on yelling at them to be careful with the knives. They'd all laughed, sang some song about how Bilbo hated blunt knives, before washing all of the dishes. For once, the dead didn't come knocking, the noise just quiet enough for them to escape notice.

And then everything had become glum again, because Thorin had returned from where he had been upstairs, a bloody axe in his hand. Bilbo had been confused at first, but Bofur, a man with a very large moustache and raggedy hat, explained that Bifur, his cousin, had been bit a week before. The man had begun to cry then, covering his eyes, beginning to wail like a child. Bilbo had given an awkward pat on the back, trying to comfort the other at least a little.

Another, sadder song had been sung for Bifur's passing, and then all of them had went to bed, exhausted by the afternoons events. But when Bilbo had awoken in the morning, all of them had been gone. He'd gotten dressed, packed his bag, and ran out the door, getting into his old bug and driving as quickly as he could, trying to catch the others. He hit a couple Orcs along the way, their blood spattered over the windshield.

There was only one road that would lead them out of town, and Bilbo caught up to them in record time. They were in a large school bus, driving along according to the speed limit. The speed limit Bilbo had obviously ignored, going at 70 miles per hour. He pulled up next to the bus, and waved his hand at the window in a pull over gesture. It jerked to a stop, and he got out of his car quickly, pulling his bag out and slinging it over his shoulder, running over to the door and banging on it.

It opened up, and Balin, one of the men he had met last night, was standing there, blinking at him with some confusion on his face.

"I-I'm coming with!" Bilbo panted, trying to sound firm with his decision to join. Balin was moved aside by Gandalf, who smiled down at him.

"I told you he would still come Thorin!" He called over his shoulder, as the giant made way for Bilbo to get onto the bus. He sent one last look to his Beatle, and stepped inside. Old Bag would be here until he wanted to return, no need to get all sentimental over it. "And you thought he wouldn't come once you left him behind."

"Well, you did take all of my food." Bilbo said weakly, giving Gandalf a small smile, happy when he heard the other laugh loudly, shaking his head at Bilbo with a grin spread across his face, closing the door now as he scooted Bilbo to a seat, past all of the company, and then down into an empty once.

Thorin just grunted from where he was seated at the front, and Bilbo shot him a glare, irritated. Why had the other become so rude? It was like the man he met last night and had talked to become a grunting mongrel in the last couple hours! At least Gandalf had some manners, as he sat down behind Bilbo in the back seat, where the whole thing was one big bench. He stretched his legs out along it, fluffing a pillow behind his head, and gave Bilbo one more smile as he closed his eyes, and the bus rocked to a start once more.

He was about to close his eyes and follow Gandalf's suit with falling asleep, but felt his nose start to itch, and sneezed loudly, covering his nose immediately. He patted himself down for his handkerchief but…

It wasn't there.

Oh shit. "Wait, wait stop! We have to go back! I left my handkerchief!"

Bofur laughed in the seat in front of him, grabbing a part of his grimy shirt and ripping, throwing the piece back to Bilbo. "This'll have to do, Mr. Baggins!"

Okay, maybe he had made a mistake on leaving home.

The company stopped at an old stable miles away from Bilbo's hometown, Thorin deciding that they'd travelled enough for one day. The bus had begun to overheat slightly, and he didn't want to risk it breaking down. The instant they'd gotten out of the bus, Gandalf had gotten antsy, telling Thorin they should move on. He got a bad feeling about the area, something about the undead being strange, but Thorin told him to sod off. Then Gandalf had gotten angry, and stormed off.

Bilbo was worried for the other, but Bofur had assured him that Gandalf was fine. The old man could take care of himself, and he had to begrudgingly believe the other. Then Bofur had thrust two bowls of the food Bilbo had just cooked into his hands, and told him to go to where Fili and Kili were on top of the bus, looking over the cattle that the Orcs had yet to get. Thorin wanted to slaughter them in the morning for food, and hadn't wanted any more of the animals dying.

Bilbo's use of the word Orcs had caught on quickly too, and now the whole company called them that. It was better than zombies or monsters for them, and it gave them all a bit of closure with a certain name for the beasts that had ruined the planet.

And now here he was, walking out to the bus down the gravel path, weaponless and quite cold. He should have put his jacket on before he left the warm fireplace in the old house that they were sleeping in tonight, but it had slipped his mind completely once he'd been handed the bowls and thrust outside.

He climbed up the ladder they attached to the outside of the bus with some difficulty, before getting to the top and coming to rest by Fili and Kili, who were staring down at the cattle fields with a look of numbness on their faces.

"What's wrong?" He asked the two, frowning.

"There were 15 cows before." Fili started, glancing at his brother.

"And now there's only 13." Kili finished, looking like he was going to be slightly sick, gripping his crossbow tightly.

"We need your help. Something big got those fences down." Kili jerked his head towards the broken fence. "This is a chance for you to show your skill at being a burglar!" Bilbo wondered for a moment where they had heard that, as Fili nodded, taking one of the bowls from him, and then Kili took the other, pushing him back towards the ladder. "Just follow the trail of cow blood from the fence and you'll find our cow kidnapper! And when you need help, just whistle like a train once, and then twice like a plane!"

Bilbo was already to the fence when they called that, and repeated it in his head, then frowned, turning back to ask what it was again, only to see that the two had abandoned him. Just great. He rubbed his face, shaking his head with a sigh as he turned back to the trail they had mentioned, crouching down by it to examine it closer. Sure enough, it was quite easy to follow, and he fumbled with his pocket for his small flashlight. That was clicked on, and he beamed it down at the trail so he could see it better, beginning to walk in the direction it lead.

It took a while, but he finally did find who had taken those cows.

Monsters, the size of small trees! They were around a crudely made fire, making grunting noises as they waited for it to get hot enough to cook the poor cows, which now numbered about 5 instead of the original 2. They must have gone and taken more, and Bilbo hoped that Fili and Kili were all right as he crept a bit closer, ducking behind a tree. These had to be mutated victims of the virus; it was the only explanation he could think of.

_'They're like Trolls, the way they're lumbering about!'_ He thought, shaking his head slightly as he ran towards a new tree, barely getting behind it before on turned around, grabbing at something it had set near where he was, pulling it over to the fire. It was a log for the fire, and it threw it on with a great groan, making flames lick off and light the grass. One of them stepped on the flames, putting them out, and Bilbo felt his eyes get even bigger.

This form of the virus seemed to have a bit more intelligence then the regular Orc. They were keeping the cows contained in a makeshift pen, ignoring the frightened animals as they continued to grunt to each other, apparently arguing over how to cook them in their own language. Bilbo had crept to the pen, only to find that the rope that kept the gate shut was tied into a hard knot, impossible for him to get open. He'd looked around for a bit, trying to figure out just how he was going to untie the rope, and spotted a old knife by one of the Trolls feet. He'd bit his lip, wondering if this was worth the risk of maybe getting crushed by one of these things, but quickly shook his head. He was trying to prove himself, he couldn't chicken out now. Thorin would find him even more laughable if he ran off.

So he went closer and closer, going as quietly as he could, doing his best to ignore all the human remains around his feet, as he got barely inches away from the knife. He was reaching for it, his fingers barely brushing the metal-

Before he felt a hand of epic proportions grab him and lift him up, sneezing goo all over the small man, covering him head to toe. He closed his mouth as tight as he could when it did, disgusted by the snot, but worried that getting it into his mouth world turn him. The Troll seemed to be shocked at what had come out of its nose, showing him to the other who looked just as surprised, poking at Bilbo lightly.

They looked like they were discussing how to eat him with their grunts and movements, when Kili burst out of the tree line, crossbow raised as he aimed at the one holding Bilbo upside down now. They all blinked at him, before a whole wave of humans came out, all of them with weapons. Bilbo was dropped on the ground, and could only watch as the monsters were cut down as quickly as they could manage. Gandalf walked over to Bilbo hurriedly, grabbing his arm and helping him stand.

"I came as soon as I saw these guy's footprints." He told Bilbo, pulling him back from the fighting. "Horrifying beasts. Mutated form of the virus obviously, quite dangerous. I had only heard of them, but I thought they stayed to the darker areas of forests and towns…" Gandalf shook his head, as Thorin jumped up and quickly dug his axe into the Trolls neck.

"They're Trolls…" Bilbo mumbled to him, feeling very insignificant compared to all of them. "Big beasts, of low intelligence, but still destructive…"

"You really like your myths and legends, don't you?" Gandalf said, shaking his head. "But it is appropriate I guess. Come on, let's free these cows and go back to the bus quickly. This will be over soon." Gandalf was right, and as they turned around with the cows all on ropes, the monsters were dead, lying on the ground with greenish blood pouring out of their wounds and onto the ground. It wasn't the black color of the Orc blood, though Bilbo guessed Orc blood could be a very dark green.

The next morning, they slaughtered the animals, taking as much meat as they could put into the huge coolers they had, and set off once more for the east coast. Fili and Kili apologized to Bilbo profusely, saying that they hadn't meant to disappear. Bilbo forgave them, and they had spent the bus ride the next day talking about their favourite spots in the US for sightseeing. Bofur and Dori had joined in as well, and eventually Dwalin and Nori had too, along with the rest of the company. Only Gandalf, whose turn it was to drive, and Thorin didn't join in. The man was still being antisocial since they'd left Bilbo's home, and for some reason now, Bilbo wasn't bothered by it as much. If Thorin didn't want to talk to him again, he wasn't going to force the other.

They ended up travelling in the bus with no stops for several days, until they got to a gas station. Thorin had them stay there for the night, and that's when things went a bit shitty.

Because people were living inside said gas station. More people that Gandalf knew. Did the old man know everybody? These people, the Rivenelf family, didn't want them trying to reclaim Erebor. They had lived in a town nearby, and had left as soon as they could to get away from that place. It apparently was crawling with Orcs, and Smaug had become even more insane. To top it off, a crazy old man named Solomon- or as Gandalf called him, Saruman- appeared, and he and Gandalf had argued over something to do with some other old man Gandalf knew, who had given him news about a mad scientist in the ruins of a town, called Raddcliff or some such. Solomon thought Gandalf was just as insane as he was, and Gandalf had to distract the other while the company escaped in their bus as quickly as they could. He promised to meet up with them as soon as he could.

They'd entered mountain roads, and found them crawling with Orcs. And one night when they were camping at the very end of that road, they'd been overrun by them, and had gotten separated. He had been about to leave really, stuff packed up, and was out the door. Bofur had noticed however, and stopped him, confused to why he was leaving. Bilbo had explained that he didn't belong here, that he was homesick, and Bofur had said he understood. Bilbo just had to say that the other didn't, and the biggest look of hurt had crossed the others face. He instantly felt bad, but it was too late to take what he said back, and Bofur has just murmured that he wished him the best of luck. Then of course, the Orcs had attacked. Bilbo had fallen down a cliff, stumbling a bit too far from the bus once the first one appeared, while the others trapped themselves in the bus. He'd broken his arm, and had just lain on the ground until he heard something.

An Orc had fallen with him, and was several feet away from him. Something had come up to the Orc and grabbed it, dragging it away as it sang some song, going on and on about how the nasty meat was better than none.

So slowly, Bilbo had come out, and come across something the thing had dropped. An old ring with a strange engraving on the inside, and he'd stuck it into his pocket without a second thought, going in the direction it had.

He hadn't accounted for it to see him, let alone confront him. It had begun to taunt Bilbo, and he'd yelled at it to stop playing games with him. Apparently this meant that he wanted to play a game with it, and soon they had gotten into a game of riddles. The grocer had almost lost, but with the barest bit of luck, he'd won.

Not before, however, the creature he now called Gollum for the sound it made when it coughed, noticed his ring was gone. Then Bilbo had run as fast as he could, lucky to have escaped with his life. During his escape though, the ring had slipped onto his finger, and he'd run straight into a crowd of Orcs, having not seen them before it was too late.

But none of them had noticed them. They'd continued to trudge on aimlessly, ignoring the man. Bilbo hadn't dwelled on it, quickly running through them, getting back to the bus as quick as he could. He'd climbed back up the cliff to the vehicle, and had been about to get on before he heard the yelling.

"Our burglar is long gone! He's only been thinking of himself since he first came with us! We won't be seeing him again!" Thorin's voice was angry and filled with rage, and it made Bilbo freeze where he stood, hand still resting on the handle. For a brief moment, he thought about actually doing it. Leaving the company, not coming back, but then a swell of anger has risen up, and he'd yanked the door open, stepping inside.

"No. No, I'm right here."

Gandalf somehow had come back, and his expression was relieved. The other knew that if Bilbo hadn't been here with them, it was most likely that he would be dead in hours, if he weren't already. Of course Bilbo found that vaguely insulting, but he also knew it was true. He only had an old axe he scavenged from a car a couple days ago as a weapon. It had been sharpened, but it wouldn't do against a hoard of Orcs. His gun had been left in the bus with all of them, so he would have been essentially defenceless.

Thorin had looked shocked, and that had faded quickly, as he demanded to know how exactly Bilbo had escaped from all of those Orcs. Bilbo had snuck the ring into his pocket then, not sure if he should tell them about it or not. Gandalf had insisted that it wasn't important, suddenly looking a bit off, but Thorin had told him to be quiet.

"I came back because I want to help. Yeah, I miss my home. Miss my garden, my books. But you guys don't have something like that to go home to. It was taken from you- by the dead, and by Smaug. And I want to help get it back, if I can."

He and Thorin had locked gazes, not breaking it, no one seemingly breathing in the room as they just stood there, until Thorin looked away, jerking his head at the current driver to get going.

Then another goddamn crowd of Orcs had shown up and chased their bus down. And at the head was the palest Orc he'd ever seen. And as soon as he realized this, he knew who it was. The undead businessman who had killed Thorin's grandfather. Their bus had been put on its side, and almost all of them had been trapped. Bilbo had been able to worm himself out of the seats, and watched as Thorin walked out of the bus, brandishing a gun and an axe in either hand, looking like the biggest badass around, if Bilbo said so himself.

But the Pale Orc had made him fall with one blow, it's teeth bared. He had been about to bite Thorin, until Bilbo ran out, and swung his axe in one clean it. He'd chopped the monsters head straight off, and it'd rolled to the ground, coming to a stop by Thorin, who was unconscious, nose broken and extremities bleeding.

"We need to get him to a friend of mine, who lived a couple miles away! Start pushing the bus back up!" Gandalf had ordered, and everyone had rushed to do as he said. They didn't need more of the undead showing up soon, and they drove off as soon as the bus had been fixed up enough.

The old friend turned out to be a well hated individual of Thorin's family, and when he woke up to find Thranduil caring for him well, he flipped a tit and kicked the tall elegant man in the stomach, yelling for the sick bastard to get away from him before he ripped his teeth out. That had gotten him handcuffed to his bed, trapped there until he could control his temper.

Surprisingly enough… Thorin had asked for Bilbo as soon as he was calmed down, worried about his health. The last thing he apparently remembered was Bilbo tackling Azog by the cliff, and then his vision had gone black.

"I told you that you'd be a burden, that you were a nuisance." Thorin's voice is almost a whisper, and he's barley standing. He looks like he wants to stab the man who saved him from getting bit, eyes narrowed as he slowly walked forward, legs shaking as he reached out, grabbing Bilbo.

And then pulled him into a tight hug, a hand cupping the back of his head as he pulled the other close. "I have never been so wrong." He whispered to the shocked smaller, who eventually hugged back, even though it was a bit awkward. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Bilbo."

"Don't worry. I would have doubted me too." He pulled back from the embrace, giving Thorin a weak smile, drawing a small laugh from the other. "Does this mean you'll stop ignoring me?"

Thorin grinned back at him, obviously happy to be alive. "I promise I'll stop ignoring you. Most of the time."

Bilbo hit him lightly in the arm, laughing now, relieved that the last person in their company was going to stop treating him like he was useless. "What made you start doing it in the first place?"

"I don't actually know. You just suddenly… irritated me I suppose. You got along with everybody in seconds, and you seemed to actually believe you could do something." He shook his head, looking back at the bed he'd been lying in for the last day or so, only just now released. "It pissed me off a lot. But I suppose you aren't actually useless, with what you did back at the cliff."

His cheeks flushed lightly, and he looked away, coughing slightly. "It… It really was nothing…" He muttered, wishing a bit that the other would drop it. It was bad enough that Fili and Kili had been going on and on to Thranduil, his son Legolas, and some man named Bard. Bard looked… quite mundane really. Like your everyday man, but according to Gandalf, he was a mean shot with a crossbow and knew knives and guns like nobody's business. He was bringing him and the father son pair to Erebor with them, even though Thorin didn't like it.

Thranduil apparently only lived here because he didn't like where the bulk of his group was, which was in a suburb in Erebor called the Mirkwood. They'd promised to help out, and Thorin scoffed at the idea when he'd been told. The bastards helping them? When all they had done is betray and lie? It was ludicrous!

Bilbo couldn't help but feel a bit safer though, with the knowledge that they had gained even more allies. Gandalf also assured him that another township called Long Lake was going to help, and some from the nearby town where his friend from their brief rest from so long ago was from. All of them would go and march on Erebor at the same time, and it made Bilbo wonder what was so important for all of them to risk so much to get it back from Smaug.

He had a feeling though, that this wasn't going to turn out all right. That the people he had around him right now… weren't going to make it through the battle in the end.

They were back on the road a week later, supplied up and ready to go. Thorin had ignored Thranduil the whole week, grunting what he wanted to say to the other through Gandalf. He was such a child when it came to being angry, but Bilbo found it strangely endearing really. He'd quickly run that thought away, flushing slightly when he realized he had actually believed that Thorin was endearing, of all things. He was relieved that mind reading was impossible for anyone in the company.

Thorin had decided for once to sit by Bilbo on the ride to their next resting spot, his thigh brushing a bit against his whenever the bus jerked. They sat in silence for a long time, until Thorin cleared his throat.

"So um, you've become quite handy with that axe of yours." He muttered, looking a bit embarrassed. Bilbo blinked at him, surprised at the others attempt to make conversation, but didn't comment on that. Instead, he decided to indulge the proclaimed king of their procession, a nickname that Fili and Kili had made that just stuck to him.

"Ah, well I had to." Bilbo shrugged lightly, brushing his fingers against the wood of the handle faintly, looking fondly down at it. The weapon had saved his life several times in a row now, and he probably wouldn't be around if Gandalf hadn't found it for him. Neither would Thorin. "It's not actually as hard as I thought it would be to use it. I still suck at using a gun though. I can't aim at anything right. I just take random shots and hope to hit something." Bilbo laughed slightly, shaking his head as he sighed. "You're a good shot. The best I've seen."

Thorin looked surprised then, mirroring Bilbo's earlier expression. "I haven't shot anything in front of you before."

"I ah, sort of snuck out one night and watched you practicing on some cans. You hit them every time." Bilbo explained, feeling like he was a bit of a stalker, fingers lacing together now on his lap as he looked down at them, cheeks reddening a bit.

"Oh…" Thorin looked down at his own hands, gazing at the calluses that covered his palms. Calluses that had never been as bad until this whole thing had started nearly three months ago. Bilbo's own hands were covered with them, and once upon a time they had been blisters that would pop and burn, painful to even touch. Dori had given him a cream to help with the pain, but it didn't take everything away. He would have asked for some of the aspirin they had, if their stocks weren't so low back then. After visiting Thranduil's though, they had a nice big stock of medication and bandages. So if he was in pain again sometime this trip, he'd be able to dull it with the drugs. Or with his secret stash of Old Toby in his bag that he definitely wasn't going to share with any of the others, even if they begged.

Well, he might share with Thorin. The other seemed quite tense a lot of the time, and a good bit of smoking would calm him down. He also sort of wanted to see his face when he found out that Bilbo pretty much did drugs. Bilbo knew he came off as the sort that would never smoke, but that was quite the contrary. He had weed growing in his garden, as he'd planted it there as soon as he'd moved in, using seeds from his mother's garden. It was a reason why most of his old neighbours hadn't really been very fond of him, but he was always thankful that they had never reported him to the police for the ownership of drugs and use of it.

He was pretty sure though that everybody on his block had been smoking the stuff though, since he had seen some pretty odd plants in Otho Sackville's backyard a couple years ago… He hadn't been sure, and he'd never gotten close enough to check that day. Bilbo had told himself that he'd always go back to check someday, but now… he didn't think he'd ever go back. The little town of Shire was so far away now, and it felt like it had been years since he was anywhere near a place where relatives lived.

Erebor might just have to become his new home from now on, and a large part of Bilbo didn't mind this. The Shire had always been full of bad memories anyway, of his childhood, his adulthood, his relatives… His mother had been driven away by those memories, along with his cousin Drogo and his wife Primula. He vaguely wondered if they were all right, and again wished that they had a phone line to call, to leave a message, to do something to contact those he actually cared about as family.

Maybe once they had taken Erebor back, he could speak to Gandalf on repairing a tower to call someone. It seemed like the topic the old man would know a lot about. He already seemed to know everything there seemed to know on the planet, why should cell phone towers be any different?

"Bilbo? Are you listening?" Bilbo was snapped out of his musings by Thorin, who was waving a hand in front of his face, making him look up quickly and met the others gaze. Thorin looked slightly worried, frowning slightly at Bilbo.

"Sorry, I zoned out for a bit." He said quickly, smiling quickly at him. Thorin nodded, raising an eyebrow at him as he sighed.

"I thought you fell asleep with your eyes open. Bifur used to do that, before he got the bite. He was always a bit odd, but…" Thorin looked up at the roof, shaking his head. "It was my fault he got bit in the first place, you know. He shoved me out of the way of an Orc and got bit on the head, of all places. His blood circulation had always been horrible, so the virus didn't take the usual hour or couple days. Took a fucking week, and he suffered through it."

Bilbo touched his arm, making the other jerk his head towards him, smiling at him softly. "I think he would be happy that you'd gotten this far, you know. Him, your grandfather, and your father." He told the longhaired man, his words gentle, ignoring all the suggestive looks they were getting from the rest of the company. They were all idiots when it came to any one showing any affection for each other and Bilbo swore he had heard Ori, Fili, and Kili talking about how Thilbo Bagginshield was their OTP, and that they shipped it so hard. Balin had slapped them over the heads with the book he was reading, they had just grinned then, glancing back at each other, murmuring that it was so worth it.

Bilbo wasn't sure if he even wanted to know what an OTP was either, but he had a small inkling to what Thilbo Bagginshield was. He wasn't going to tell Thorin about it just yet though.

"You really mean that?" His hand brushed against Bilbo's, not actually holding it, but just resting there. Bilbo nodded, not lying to Thorin.

"I do mean it. I may not have known them well, or even at all, but I just know they would have. Everybody in this company is proud of you Thorin. Whether you know it or not, or if they tell you or not. They do. And they always will, as long as you're leading them, as long as you could put it, their king." Those words seemed strike home in Thorin's eyes, and they filled slightly with emotion, and hugged Bilbo for the second time ever, yanking him to his chest. More giggles could be heard from the shipping trio, and more ignoring came from the two embraced men.

They could imply whatever they want, but he and Thorin weren't like that. Or at least, not now. Bilbo could see the potential of it becoming something, but not any time soon. The small beginnings of feelings were there, dwelling within both, but they weren't strong enough for them to do anything yet. After they worked on their friendship, and were at Erebor… then Bilbo could think about those sorts of feelings.

Now was definitely not the time to work on getting a boyfriend, as they pulled away from each other, smiles on both of their faces as they looked away once more, falling into silence once again.

Fili and Kili looked over the tops of their seats once and a while at them, only the top of their heads and eyes visible, and Ori would stick his around the other side. Once again, Bilbo wondered slightly about the nature of those three's relationship with one another, noting the looks Ori offered Fili here and there.

Thorin seemed to still be oblivious to his nephew's relationship with the younger man, but everybody else seemed to have some idea of it. Bilbo was almost positive that he'd seen Gloin give the two a condom, whispering something in their ears.

Apparently Gloin had a son that was in Erebor with his mother, and was quite worried for them. Bilbo hoped that they were both alive, for Gloin's sake. He was such a nice man, though slightly loud at times. Nori, Dori, and Ori all were worried for their mother, and Bombur and Bofur were worried for Bombur's wife and kids. Dwalin and Balin had a mother and a cousin that they had left there. Fili, Kili, and Thorin were doing it for Thorin's father of course, but also his sister; Dis. Bilbo had sent prayers for all of them, as well for his own family. Or at least the parts of his family that he actually liked, like his cousin Drogo and his son Frodo, and Drogo's wife Primula.

Frodo and his friends, he reminded himself, were all in college on the East Coast. Sam, Pippin, and Merry. He had gotten a phone call from Frodo before the lines went out, saying they'd met up with a guy called Striker and his friends, and was in a skyscraper somewhere in New York. His heart had fell instantly, because even Bilbo knew that the big towns were almost impossible to escape, but hey, a guy could still hope.

Thorin sat up front now, staring out the window as countryside rolled by, barely even looking at it as the snores of the rest of the company surrounded him. It had been about two weeks since the death of Azog at Bilbo's hands, and currently Gandalf was driving, and soon it would be Dwalin's turn, who had fallen asleep at lunchtime so he could be fully rested. They'd have to stop at a gas station again soon, since this bus took up a lot of gas. They usually could get all of it from abandoned cars and the such, but they were almost going on fumes.

"Gandalf, pull up at the next gas station. We need to do a gas run quickly, and get some bottled water if there is any from the shop. And we need to get rid of what cow meat we have left in those coolers, it went bad weeks ago." He called to the other, who nodded, glancing up in the mirror for a moment or two and looking gazes with Thorin, before looking back at the road.

"How are you, Thorin?" He asked the other, trying to make some small talk. Thorin shrugged, standing up then to stretch out his limbs, feeling stiff. Maybe he should start doing some work outs once and a while, if he sat so long. Usually he would get up and walk around a bit, but lately he had just been staying in his seat, just looking out the window. Or he would be sitting next to Bilbo, watching his new friend sleep the night away. He usually would do that for a while, before falling asleep right next to him, head resting against his shoulder. Thank god Thorin woke up before anyone else, still not really wanting to get caught by anyone. Especially the trio of doom. Bilbo had recently told him that the 3 were over thinking his and the strawberry blondes relationship a lot, and that he should be wary of that they're doing.

He'd been right, because the very next day Thorin had found Ori's sketchbook. It had been filled with pictures of the undead, but the newest were of Thorin and Bilbo. Hugging, leaning against each other, and um, a quite ah… creative one of them with no clothes on.

He had never blushed so hard in all his life, and snickers came from where Fili and Kili sat, covering their faces. Thorin shot a glare at his nephews, vowing to do something as equally embarrassing to them to make up for his own. Maybe he could try and give them the sex talk again, like he had when they were teenagers. Dis had refused to do it herself, and the task had gone to the favourite uncle. That had been a traumatizing experience for Fili and Kili, who both swore to this day that they had never been so red.

Giving it to them again might be even necessary. Contrary to Bilbo's belief, he actually did have some idea of what they were doing, and he might not approve of it, but he rather have them being safe than sorry. He wondered lightly what Dis' reaction would be to know she wouldn't be getting any grandchildren after all; a dream she had since she'd first sent the two off to be apprentices at Thorin's garage. That they would meet some nice girl and settle down with her, have a kid or two, then live to a nice long age with them, telling stories about their reckless relatives and their youth to their own grandkids. Sometimes Dis wanted too much, but she was a woman, and the daughter of his father. A man who had spoiled his daughter rotten, never denying her any wish.

Thorin had been the kid that had to work for everything he wanted, and sometimes he found himself resenting his sister slightly for having it easy. He'd told her that once, and gotten a punch to the face, as she reminded him that she was the one that had to go through bleeding out of their vagina every month, and had to deal with boobs, and had to deal with sexism. Oh, and of course, they had to deal with having babies. He'd been told having a child was like having a baby come out your ass in a way, and he really didn't want to ever experience that. Seemed like a very painful experience really.

Gandalf turned the bus suddenly down a ramp, and they were at the gas station. Thorin shook Dwalin awake, the other snorting and jerking up, looking around for his weapon, but calmed once he realized what was going on. He and Gandalf left the bus and began filling it, Dwalin keeping watch while the tall man pushing the knob into the petrel cap, sliding in one of the many credit cards they'd stolen from dead bodies.

The bus took a long time to fill, and once it was, Gandalf headed to the very back of the bus, slumping down in his usual seat, and falling straight into sleep. Dwalin took off, heading back to the main road. He ran over an Orc on the way, it's head getting completely shattered by one of the wheels, and making the most disgusting noise ever. Said noise awoke Bilbo from his sleep in a couple seats away, and Thorin spotted him sitting in the tiny bit of light from the front of the bus, rubbing his eyes and mumbled something under his breath as he slowly stood, wandering over to Thorin and sitting down next to him.

"Did Dwalin run over something?" He asked with a yawn, and Thorin nodded, looking back out the window.

"An Orc. Made a horrible noise."

"I know, I heard it." Bilbo laughed slightly, trying to keep it quiet as he hugged his knees. "I wish he wouldn't though. Hitting them always gets their guts stuck in the wheels and it attracts Orcs. The smell of their own blood I guess." He shook his head. "I wish I could understand how they worked. Some of them… they're just mindless. But others like the Trolls or-" Bilbo cut himself off from finishing the sentence, not telling Thorin of the last mutation of the virus he had seen. Thorin would have pushed for it, but something in the others expression stopped him, and he closed his mouth, just nodding.

"I'll tell him later. He gets a bit deaf when he's driving, almost impossible to talk to him really." Thorin explained, glancing back at the figure in the driver's seat, who was oblivious to what Bilbo and him were talking about. "Something to do with his concentration I think. Balin explained it to me once, years ago when I was in my 20's. His brain kind of focuses on one sense at a time, like when he's driving, it's his sight. It's why we pick him as our watchman most days, but he always has to have another person with him so they can get his attention if we send a message along the radio."

He glanced back at where Thranduil, Legolas, and Bard slept, all on one seat. Only Legolas would talk to any of them, the other two being very antisocial, which Thorin was fine with completely. He rather have a silent Mirkelf then a not so silent one. Thranduil's whole family had always been a pain in his family's backside, only becoming more apparent these last few years and months. Thranduil had promised to come and help get rid of Smaug, but the man had came, seen the destruction, then turned right back around and went the way he came.

From then on, he promised himself that he'd choke the life out of him, but it seemed he couldn't do that quite yet. And not in front of the man's son. He may hate his family, but Thorin wasn't sick enough to do that in front of a teenager. Only a person completely sick in the head would do that. Only a monster would kill a father in front a child. A monster such as Azog. Yeah, he'd killed his grandfather in front of him, but it still had dealt a devastating blow. And Thorin wasn't even a kid anymore. Imagine what it would be like if you were barely 17, and your dad had his head practically bit off right then and there? You would never be the same, no matter how hard you tried.

Thorin hoped that nothing similar would be done in front of Fili and Kili, when the fight for their town began. If anything happened to him, those two would blame themselves instantly for not protecting him. Family was stronger than anything else in their minds, and seeing their uncle in pain shook them up every time it happened. What would him being killed do to them?

What would them being killed to him? His fingers gripped the armrest tighter, and Bilbo glanced down at his hand with a bit of worry.

"Thorin?" He asked softly, touching his arm gently. Thorin's eyes shot up to look up at the others face, and relaxed slightly when he saw how worried Bilbo looked, prying his fingers one by one from the rest. "You alright? You got all tense again." Thorin nodded quickly, giving the other the smallest of smiles, though he had to force it a bit.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm fine, just zoning out a bit." The lie was heavy in his mouth, but Bilbo seemed to believe it, nodding slightly with a sigh. A sense of deja vu hit Thorin though, as he remembered that Bilbo had said those exact words to him before. Except Bilbo had been the one zoning out. Had he been thinking about his family too? Worrying for them?

"Ah well, okay… I thought you were upset or something for a moment there."

"You'd know if I was upset, trust me. I once locked Fili and Kili in a closet for hours when they pissed me off one day, a couple years ago. They'd done some prank for something with my shampoo, and it made the gray in my hair go bright pink and stained half of my skin pink too. Had to cut my mane down to my scalp." He touched his now long hair, smiling a bit more as he remembered it. "I grew it back obviously, but it still was irritating as hell. Didn't stop them from doing more pranks though."

Bilbo let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Sounds like my cousin Drogo. He was always messing with all of us at family reunions. Once snuck itching powder into my mother's bloomers and in his future wife's bra." He snorted a bit more, sighing. "He'd do things like that all the time at the reunions. The last one a year ago, he dyed all of my uncles pants pink. The uncle that never wore anything but white. God was he angry, but he had deserved it."

Thorin nodded, smiling lightly at the other, his mood lightening more with the story. Remembering their pasts was a welcome escape from the world they lived in now.

"Tomorrow we'll arrive in Erebor, I think." Dwalin called over his shoulder, making the other jerk slightly, feeling the bus slow slightly as the balding man turned his attention to them for a moment. "6 more hours at the least."

Bilbo turned to Thorin, his smile from before bursting into a grin. "You hear that? We'll be in Erebor tomorrow. We can get it back!" He felt a rush of excitement and trepidation.

The last leg of the journey was here.

And the battle would start tomorrow. They would get Erebor and Thorin's things back from Smaug. Smaug would be killed for what he'd done, and Bilbo for once, didn't feel bad about another person's life being taken.

When that battle did start, no one had thought it would turn out how it had that day. No one had expected the absolute amount of death, as the 4 forced moved on the Orcs.

Everything seemed to be going good when the fighting against the Orcs outside of Thorin's old home started. There seemed to be thousands of undead, but with the help of all of the people they'd recruited from the surrounding towns, the task of killing them all didn't seem as bleak. Bilbo had figured out finally what the ring he'd gotten from Gollum did, standing in the center of the crowd. It gave off some scent, almost like the smell of an Orc. The components of the metal were the type that when rubbed against the skin, it released a scent that would literally surround your body. He'd slipped it on for good luck since the last time he'd worn it, he'd gotten away from that cliff.

It was a great find, though he was slightly worried about if Gollum found him again. But at the moment, he couldn't be thinking about that. He was shoving his way through the crowd, clutching the hand of Bard as he dragged the man towards the building. Bilbo had come across the other almost being mauled by a large Orc, and had to chop the head off, spurting blood all over the other. Then he'd grabbed him and began yanking him towards the building. He had to get the thing Thorin needed- the whole reason that Smaug had locked himself in the house. The house that was a like a goddamn fort.

Bilbo had found a way in through a window, and he helped Bard up and into it, going up after him. He cut himself deeply on some of the broken glass, and pressed a hand to it, biting his lip a bit. He ignored the pain though, slipping onto the ground.

Bard glanced at him, then back at the doorway in front of them. "I'll start looking for Smaug. You go and find the Arken. Its gunna be in a lab somewhere in the basement, alright?" He'd paused for a moment, before coughing, looking back at Bilbo. "If I don't come back- you gotta go to a little town called Laketown for me, not far from here. Try an see if my kids are alright." He whispered, and Bilbo nodded quickly.

They separated, and later after the battle, Bilbo would hear how Bard had killed Smaug in his bedroom, shoving a knife up his stomach, slitting the skin and letting his guts fall out, before he cut his throat, throwing him out the back of the house to the undead as the man bled out.

He'd gone straight to the basement, and found what Bard had called Arken. It was a set of vials, labelled Arken on the base. He'd grabbed all of the vials and gotten out of there as quickly as he could.

And then he'd bumped into Thranduil in the room with the broken window. The man had said… had said he'd leave Thorin to the Orcs if Bilbo didn't hand the vials over to him right now. His eyes hadn't given away a sliver of a joke, and Bilbo just knew he wasn't kidding. Thranduil would really leave Thorin for the Orcs.

So Bilbo did, and had gone out the window, feeling like he'd betrayed Thorin in the worst possible way.

Bilbo rejoined the fight once he was out of the window and the yard, running as fast as he could to where Thorin was, pressed against a hedge as he cut and hacked at the Orcs, letting out yells whenever one of them out fall, sweat drenching his chest as he beat them off.

"Thorin!" Bilbo swung his own axe, blood pattering against his face, fighting his way to Thorin's side.

"Did you get it?" Thorin yelled over the fighting, moving back to back against him. Bilbo bit his lip, shoving the handle of the axe in the mouth of one of the jaws, throwing it back against another.

"Ah, well, not really. Thranduil has it!" He yelled back, and a curse escaped Thorin from behind him, as Bilbo felt another splatter of blood hit his face. All of the undead seemed to be going for Thorin, since Bilbo was still wearing his lucky ring.

"Fucking shit! Then that bloody asshole has the cure!"

The cure? The CURE? That's what was in those vials? Oh god, oh god, hell fucking no. He had just given the only cure to Thranduil- what had he done? What on earth had he done!?

"Thorin I-" A crunching noise came from behind him, and he turned as fast as he could, growing pale.

Thorin had been bit. He cut the Orc down quickly, grabbing Thorin as he collapsed, gripping Thorin to his body as they slumped. The undead were coming closer and closer, smelling Thorin's blood, but a roar erupted behind them as Fili and Kili broke through the ranks, fighting their way through to their uncle. Bilbo could only watch in horror as they too were bit, holding Thorin's head to his chest, kicking the dead that crawled over, nibbling at Thorin's ankles.

No, no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen- this wasn't supposed to happen for gods sake-!

Fili and Kili were still standing in front of them, ignoring the bites on their arms, as more of the Orcs began flowing against them. More bites appeared on the two, blood dripping down their arms as they tried to protect Thorin and Bilbo.

Eventually the rest of their allies had gotten to them, but by then it was too late.

Bilbo cupped Thorin's face, staring into his eyes as his own filled with tears, guilt tearing at his chest. "He said he'd let them get you. He was going to let the Orcs eat you and he wasn't joking and I… and I gave him the cure! I could have stopped this!" He cried.

"It's… It's alright." Thorin's bloody hand came to rest on his cheek, leaving streaks of blood there. God he could already see the green flecks of the disease in his eyes, and pulled the others sleeves up.

There was more than one bite.

"See? I'm already screwed up." Fili and Kili both sat by them, their own bites glistening in the dim light, as the rest of the men began fighting off the Orcs.

With this many, they would turn in minutes.

"I'm so sorry." He pressed his forehead to Thorin's, breathing out deeply, tears burning hot in his eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks and falling onto the others face.

"You… you have to take care of everyone, alright?" He murmured, gripping Bilbo's shirt. "Promise that you'll take care of them." Fili and Kili both reached towards their uncle, taking a hold of his shoulders, leaning forward to press their heads to his back.

"Yeah." Fili murmured, his fingers lacing with Kili's. "You have to take care of our mom, when you find her, alright?"

Bilbo nodded quickly. "I promise. I promise alright." He pressed a kiss to Thorin's forehead, and then to Fili and Kili's, who grinned slightly at him.

"Come on, Bilbo. You can give our uncle a better goodbye then that." Kili said weakly. Bilbo let a choked laugh out, shaking his head as he pressed his lips to Thorin's, holding it there.

"Hey Kili?"

"Yeah, Fili?"

"Guess we were right about our OTP gunna fuck." More laughter erupted from the four, Thorin's grip on Bilbo getting weaker, the small laughs escaping into each other's mouths, before Bilbo finally pulled away.

"You have to be the one to quiet us. You can't let us come back." Thorin murmured. "I know you can do it. You're strong Bilbo. So strong. I was so amazed when we found you, trapped in your house. Thought you were brilliant." His words were fading, and Bilbo could already see that Fili and Kili's eyes were closed, their breathing stopping. "You're amazing. Sorry for being a jerk to you. Sorry for a lot of things…"

And his breathing stopped.

Even through his pain, Bilbo counted the seconds for when the three would come back, gripping him tightly as his body cooled.

And when the first movements from Fili and Kili came, stirring from where they leaned against Thorin, he pulled the others pocketknife out, and dug it into both of Fili and Kili's brain stems, lying them down next to each other, hands still clutched in death. He returned to Thorin's side, not sure if he was ready for what came next.

But he knew he had to do it.

When the first movement came, he dug the knife in his head, feeling dead to the world.

But he went on, because in this new world, you couldn't dwell on the past.

After the battle, Thorin and his nephews were buried side by side by all of them. Thranduil was eventually tracked down, and the cure taken back from him. His son stayed with them, finding his father despicable for his actions. He understood why he had done it apparently, but he hadn't agreed. Thranduil was banished from the town, and returned to where he'd lived before, saying what he'd done was for the good of his family, and that they'd regret making him leave.

Dis was alive, as well as all of the other families of the company. They had locked themselves in the bank, storing year's worth of food with them. With their help and with those who had fought with them in the battle, they built a fence around the center of town, making several rows of chain links. Gandalf was elected to lead, but refused it, surprisingly passing it on to Bilbo, of all people.

Bilbo tried to do what he thought Thorin would have done. Erebor became a sanctuary in the country, and soon refugees were arriving in hoards. They had to expand their borders. Even Bilbo's family arrived, Frodo as well, who had barely escaped New York with his friends.

Bilbo visited Thorin's grave every day, telling him what happened. Even though he hadn't known Thorin long, the connection he'd shared with the other had been strong. The things they'd told each other… they had been things they'd never told anyone else. Whatever they could have shared would have been great, and Bilbo knew he could have eventually been in love with the other. No one except those of the original company seemed to know this, and whenever they saw Bilbo at the gravesite, they'd leave him in peace. Ori was devastated with Fili and Kili's death, and became quite depressed quite quickly. Eventually he fought through it, but he was never quite the same after his pseudo brother's death.

Bilbo lived in Erebor for years, and when he did pass away, he did it with a smile on his face.

**End**

So after deliberation, I decided to repost this since it was my longest fic ever. I rewrote most of it, but found that since it's so darn long, I didn't feel like rewriting all of it.


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